


The Town With Death

by DarkStuffHappens



Series: The Town With Darkness [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Abuse, Collars, Dubious Consent, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Past Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Tied Up Jughead Jones, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkStuffHappens/pseuds/DarkStuffHappens
Summary: The town of Riverdale is even more darker and dangerous than first thought. Now that Jughead's painful secrets are out in the open, he was hoping things might get back to usual. But with a new school in the Southside, his father in jail, Archie's father shot in cold blood, events are starting to get even more deadly... Finally the sequel to 'The Town With Darkness' is here - it'll take some time but it's coming and if you like Jughead whump, you'll get it.





	1. Green Eyes

_{A.N. Okay, I feel like the absolute worst person in the world for leaving everyone waiting for this for so long. But hopefully I am in a very creative frame of mind and I can get all of the ideas in my head out and onto the page for you all. Hope you were all craving some Jughead whump in my absence because here it comes...}_

 

**Chapter 1: Green Eyes**

 

Green eyes. It was all Jughead could see when he looked in the mirror. He only half-noticed the fading bruise on his cheekbone, courtesy of a couple assholes at Southside High in the cafeteria. And it was all he could think about after the news had broke about the shooting of Fred Andrews. By the man in the black hood. With the green eyes. And now, every time he looked in the mirror all he could see were his own green eyes. Bloodshot and weary. But at least, unlike Fred's, they were open and not closed, comatose in the Intensive Care Unit of Riverdale General - a place he knew the insides of all too well. 

Jughead sighed. He kept replaying the strong words from Archie's interview with the Sheriff. Interview? Jughead scoffed at that word. More like an interrogation - even though Fred and Archie Andrews were the victims here. 

"But this guy," Sheriff Keller had said with a frown, "he was probably out of his head on meth or the jingle jangle, some Southside lowlife that was just looking for a cash grab."

Keller couldn't help it. Even though his own  _son_ was friends with Jughead (or at least a high school acquaintance) he still gave Jughead the once-over at the mention of a 'Southside lowlife'. Jughead knew he looked bad - he was skinnier than usual, there were dark circles under those green eyes that he now loathed to look at. 

"It was like the Angel of Death had come to Riverdale," was what Pop had said when he and Betty had headed over to the Chock'Lit Shoppe to look for Fred's missing wallet. 

Jughead pulled off his beanie and raked his fingers through his hair and scuffed his boots as he pushed his tired legs to move him from the trailer's dingy bathroom to its dingy lounge room, his brain overworked and overtired yet still going over prior events. 

* * *

 

"I'm always hungry," he'd said when Pop had offered them a bite. He bit his lip after he'd said it, knowing without a doubt that Betty would bring that up late. 

"I don't want to be thinking about this while Mr Andrews is how he is," Betty had started, her voice nervous, anxious even. Jughead recognised a waver in it that was far to familiar. "But last night, when you put on the Serpent jacket - it mean something, Jug,"

"Yeah, it meant there were, like, ten biker dudes standing in front of me and I didn't think I could say no," he'd replied. Out on the steps of that doublewide with the Serpents before him and the jacket in his hands, he'd felt like he was back in that basement at the Whyte Wyrm. If he didn't do what he was told, pain would come. Bruises would come. The belt would come. His father would-

Jughead stopped himself right there. It was time to stop that thought right in its dirty, bloody, fucked up tracks. His mind kept moving through, try as he might to stop it. 

"And what about your soon-to-be foster family?" Betty had asked next. "They're from the Southside, if they have ties to the Serpents"-

"And guess what, Betts, they  _do_ have ties to the Serpents," he'd shot back, although his voice was soft, beaten down. 

"What do you mean? Jug, what...what are you saying?"

"They have ties to the Southside, to the Serpents," Jughead said, his voice getting lower and more hushed with every sentence. "After the first night in that dump, sleeping in a goddamn cupboard under the stairs like fucking Harry Potter, getting roughed up by the old man - like I need anymore of  _that_ \- and having his gross son on weekend leave from Juvie looking me up and down like a piece of meat"- at Betty's gasp he stopped himself. "Nothing-Betty nothing happened with...with  _him_. The old man was a different story but..." Jughead swallowed forcefully, pushing away the nausea he felt when he thought about that ramshackle house on the Southside. "I've made a deal with him."

"What  _kind_ of deal?" Betty asked slowly. 

"I...well, you're not going to like it," Jughead replied, his eyes trained on anything  _but_ Betty Cooper. 

"What. Kind. Of. Deal?"

"I'm back in the basement at the Whyte Wyrm on a regular basis again. But this time it's not my dad who's collecting when I win," Jughead admitted. "But at least I'm not living with the foster family anymore, I'm back in the trailer."

"Oh my god, Juggie," Betty said, her face falling into her hands. Jughead placed a hand on her back, feeling the barely-suppressed sobs that wracked her frame. "We just got you out of there," she added, looking up, her pristine blue eyes glassy.

"I know... Betts, I know." Jughead sighed. He'd known this was going to be hard. He hadn't realised how hard. "It's the best I could do. I didn't have much of a choice. You have to believe me when I say that being back in the Whyte Wyrm every month was the best option I had."

"How can  _that_ be the best option?" Betty had replied, her voice shaking. 

Jughead didn't know what to say. Was he supposed to tell her about the way the foster 'father' had grabbed him by the throat and shoved him up against the drywall of his Southside bungalow as soon as the Child Services case worker had left? Telling Jughead that he knew all about how FP had treated him and how he'd make that seem like a daydream compared to what he'd do to Jughead if he fucked up at all. Or was he supposed to tell Betty about his new foster 'brother'? Getting to the end of his time in Juvie and coming home on weekends, literally licking his lips when he took one look at Jughead. Letting himself into Jughead's cupboard of a bedroom, holding his hand over Jughead's mouth and telling him all about the things he would do with Jughead's mouth once he found some rope to tie him up with. When Jughead had grabbed a slice of bread for breakfast and had been sprung by his foster 'mother', he'd got the belting of his life from the old man. In fact, he was doing his best right now to not let on to Betty about it and, thank god with everything that had happened with Fred and Archie, she hadn't. That was the last thing she needed to know about right now. 

"Trust me, it's the best option," he finally replied, rubbing her back in soothing circles. 

"Okay...but on one condition."

Jughead barely managed to hold back a flinch at those words when he remembered what they'd cost him in his last conversation with the foster family. "Uh...y-yeah?"

"You have to tell me. When you're going to fight at the Wyrm. I want to be there. In case anything happens to you."

Jughead grit his teeth. This was the worst possible outcome. 

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Betty said.

"Well if you come to the Whyte Wyrm you'll get exactly that," Jughead replied but his voice was empty of its usual sarcastic verve. 

"I'm coming and that's final," Betty countered, sounding more and more like Alice Cooper with each passing syllable.

"Alright, Betty Cooper, if that's what you want," Jughead had relented softly. 

Betty looked up at him, blue eyes meeting green, and kissed him gently on the lips. Pulling back, she looked up at him again. "I love you Jughead Jones."

"I love you Betty Cooper."

* * *

 

Back in the trailer, Jughead rolled his shoulders, wincing at the pull on fresh welts and bruises from that asshole of a foster father who just wanted the government handouts. He pushed it from his mind, pulled out his laptop and started typing. 

_Once Mrs Andrews got to town, and Mr Andrews was back at home, recovering in his own bed, Archie's true vigil began. He made a promise, a vow to protect his father from harm. And as long as the man was out there in the night, Archie intended to keep that promise...never imagining that the Angel of Death was stalking different streets tonight in the small town of Greendale, just on the other side of Sweetwater River._

 

 

 

 

_{A.N. I hope you all like it! It's not much to begin with but I have SO MANY IDEAS... Review! Tell me what you like! What you don't like! Tell me what you'd like to happen and I'll see if I can work it in...}_


	2. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead meets Penny Peabody. She's a little more forwards here...

**Chapter 2: Conversations**

 

It had barely been 48 hours since Fred had been shot and they were already talking about a deal for FP Jones. And it wasn't a good one. Jughead had endured a tense meeting in the lockup with his father and the lawyer earlier that morning - watching his father clench his fists, rattling the handcuffs as he did so, every time the lawyer described it as a 'good' deal, was stressful enough. But listening to the lawyer explain the deal itself was torture. And Jughead was pretty well versed in torture of the physical kind so this was saying something. 

"I've been walking around all night trying to wrap my head around how bad it is," Jughead groaned, sitting in the booth at Pop's across from Archie. The diner was deserted, thanks to the recent shooting and the words "Death Diner" emblazoned across the front door in spray paint.

 

Archie grimaced in response, but didn't say anything. Jughead understood - he was facing his own uphill battle with his father freshly home from hospital and the Black Hood still out there, roaming the streets.  

"It's bad," Jughead continued nevertheless, "my dad is facing 20 years, Arch."

At those words, Archie's face fell. "Crap, Jughead, that's..." Archie trailed off. "I'm sorry," he added quickly. 

"What were you going to say?" Jughead asked, not entirely trusting himself to look Archie, his best friend, in the eye when he spoke. 

"Well, I mean...no, it's nothing," Archie stammered. 

"Tell me," Jughead pressed, pushing away the empty milkshake glass in front of him. It was all he could afford until tomorrow night's fight at the Whyte Wyrm.

"Ah...Juggie, it's just...I don't know how to say it but...I guess, isn't that kind of a good thing?" Archie said softly. 

"God, I don't know anymore," Jughead sighed, his head sinking into his hands, elbows up on the booth's table. He felt exhausted. "The Serpents said they've got my back in all this but..."

"But what?"

"But I overheard a couple of the older Serpents who I guess aren't FP Jones-worshippers in the Whyte Wyrm talking about how they should use me. Sell me off to the Ghoulies in exchange for a larger territory."

"Sell you...what?"

"I don't know, Arch, and I didn't stick around to find out," Jughead said, wearily, thankful that Archie hadn't picked up on the fact that he'd just mentioned he'd stepped foot in the Whyte Wyrm again. "I just...this is going to sound crazy but I just feel like I'd be safer if my dad wasn't in jail. There's too many moving parts, too many rivalries and vested interest. Not to mention the fact that there's the Black Hood walking among us. I'm just...I'm just really, really scared," Jughead finished, feeling a rush of icy cold tendrils spill down his spine. He shifted in the booth seat slightly, wincing a little at the stiffness in his shoulders. 

"Yeah me too," Archie agreed, staring down at his half-eaten burger. Jughead was staring at it too and his stomach took that opportunity to rumble loudly. Archie wordlessly pushed the plate away from him and towards Jughead who nodded his thanks and picked up the burger eagerly. "I couldn't sleep last night, Jug," Archie continued. "I kept thinking about your dad, and Pop's and how we could kill two birds with one stone."

 

* * *

 

Archie's idea of going to Mayor McCoy and asking for help with both Pop's and FP Jones was a bust and, while Betty and Veronica were busily planning the throwback fundraiser for Pop's, Jughead was stuck in the Whyte Wyrm with the Serpents trying to placate a group of hotheaded bikers after he'd run out of options. 

"I even talked to the mayor," Jughead sighed, one hand holding the cold glass of a coke against his cheekbone, one arm wrapped around his torso - the Ghoulies had slammed him into a locker today at Southside High. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay away from the Serpents, both at school and outside of school. "It just feels like the whole system's rigged against us."

"That's cause it is," Tall Boy replied gruffly. "What's FP saying? Is he taking the deal?"

And that, of course, was what all of the Serpents wanted to know. Would he give the Sheriff names in exchange for a lighter sentence? "Not if I can help it," Jughead said firmly. 

Tall Boy reached forward and grabbed Jughead's jaw roughly, "He won't if he knows what's good for him. And good for his son." He let Jughead go with a shove. "I sent a message to him today, telling him just that."

"What do you mean, Tall Boy?" Jughead asked exasperated, now holding the cold Coke bottle against both his jaw and his cheekbone. 

"What I mean, Jughead," Tall Boy sneered, "is that for every name he names, I'm gonna break one of your bones. That's what I mean."

Jughead exhaled and shut his eyes momentarily, wishing he was anywhere but here. One more thing for him to worry about. "He won't name names, you know that."

"Either way, I reckon we just bust him out of jail before he gets transferred to state. It's totally doable," Mustang suggested.

Jughead rolled his eyes at that earning him a raised hand in warning from Tall Boy who noticed. 

"The sheriff's station has worse security than Riverdale High," Mustang continued. "And once he's out, it's just a straight shot up Sweetwater River to the Canandian border."

"You've seen Escape From Alcatraz one too many times, Mustang," Tall Boy scoffed. He prodded Jughead in the chest with a meaty finger. "Your dad needs a snake-handler, someone whose livelihood depends on snakes, who's used to dealing with them. I've got someone you should meet."

Jughead swallowed at the thought of this snake-handler but nodded nonetheless. He didn't have much choice in the matter.

 

* * *

 

Penny Peabody was as dubious as Jughead had expected her to be. She ended up meeting him in the backroom of a tattoo parlour - the perfect place for conducting business, Jughead thought sarcastically - but it didn't stop her from pushing him into a chair opposite her's and leaving her hands on his shoulders for a beat too long. 

"Forgive the office space but I'm a firm believer in low overheads," she said with a quirk of her lips. "Plus I like being close to my clients."

"Your clients...being the Serpents?" Jughead asked, trying not to be provocative but failing when she raised an eyebrow. 

"Well I was and still am a Serpent," Penny shot back, showing Jughead the snake tattoo on her forearm. "They put me through college, law school."

"Right," Jughead exhaled even though he was wondering what the hell he was doing there. "The Serpents are often on the other side of the law," Jughead mused, "so having one of their own, on retainer, helping out is clever."

"Well, FP always bragged that you were smart," Penny said, an eyebrow raised, her hand moving across the cluttered table, and towards Jughead's. He frowned at the mention of his father and looked up at her. "Oh yeah, I know your dad. And I also know, from our, uh, mutual friends, the deal he's been offered."

Penny paused but Jughead waited. 

"It's garbage," she finished. 

"Can you help?" Jughead asked, hating the way he sounded so desperate. 

"I know the loopholes," Penny said with a smirk and Jughead's heart lifted. "In this case, there are none."

Jughead sighed, pushing back hot tears, forcing himself to stay strong, to keep his back straight despite his aches and pains. 

"But..." Penny started up again and he couldn't help but look up at her, hopeful. "If you get the victim's family to forgive him, in front of a judge, that might shift things in FP's favour. Instead of 20 years, he can get...time served. With parole."

Jughead gasped, "Oh that's great, oh my gosh, thank you Penny," he all but gushed. Penny smiled, her snake charmer smile and it reminded him immediately. "Uh, am I supposed to pay you, or..."

"We're friends," Penny said with a chuckle. She stood up from the barstool and stepped closer to Jughead. "I do you a favour," she said, her hand coming to rest on the small of his back. Jughead stiffened and looked away from Penny as she leaned in, her mouth close to his ear. "One day, maybe, you do me a favour." She moved her hand up his back slowly, Jughead held his breath, not daring to look at Penny. Her hand moved further, her fingers curling into the dark hair at the nape of his neck. He shivered. "Let me know how it goes will you? Tell your dad to wear a tie," Penny said. She finally removed her hand and Jughead shakily let out the breath he'd been holding. 

She took a step back and Jughead finally felt like he was able to breathe again. Penny slapped Jughead's back and he bit back a cry of pain. "And I'd get that back checked out before tomorrow night's fight. I'll be betting on you,  _Juggie_." 

 

* * *

 

The throwback party at Pop's had been enough of a distraction for Jughead to keep his mind off things but after dealing with Cheryl and the courtroom drama that his life was turning into, he knew he had to tell his father about Penny. He'd thought about phoning but decided against it, riding over to the jail. He had no idea whether Sheriff Keller would even let him in to see his father but as luck would have it, the Sheriff didn't appear to care. FP was in a much worse frame of mind though. 

He was pacing the length of the cell when Jughead got there, his face a mask of anger - dark and unbridled. 

"You went to see Penny Peabody," he growled. It wasn't a question. "You asked her for help."

"Dad, I...I had no choice," Jughead protested weakly, moving closer to the bars of the cell. 

His father looked up at him and Jughead had to force himself not to back away at the sight of FP's furious gaze. "Did you pay her?"

"N-no, she said it was a favour," Jughead stammered, swallowing hard as he remembered the feeling of her unwanted, wandering hands. 

"Goddamnit Jughead..." FP murmured. "You do not want to be in bed with a snake charmer. You're writing checks that she's going to want to cash somehow, and I'll tell you this much, she won't want money."

"Dad, I had no choice," Jughead repeated, a little more firmly. 

"How's the foster family?"

"They're...they're terrible Dad, I'm not living with them anymore. I'm back in the trailer."

"The trailer? By yourself?" FP asked, looking up at Jughead, the anger dissipating. 

"Yeah, they weren't...I would have been worse off with them. It's better how it is, trust me," Jughead said grimly. 

"I'll be out of here soon enough, we can start over or something."

"Yeah, sounds good," Jughead said with a humourless laugh. 

"There's a fight on tomorrow night," FP mentioned and Jughead was once again amazed at how in the know he was for someone who was completely, physically at least, out of the loop. 

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"I told Mustang to put some dollars on you for me," FP said. "Win it for me, boy."

"You got it Dad," Jughead said, with a sigh.

It was late and he'd need all the sleep he could get if he had any chance tomorrow night. He bid his father goodnight and set off, back to the trailer. Back to the Southside.

 


	3. Fight Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's fight night...

 

 

**Chapter 3: Fight Night**

 

Jughead paced the length of the trailer's sitting room - which, to be honest was only really about 3 steps. But he didn't know what to do. He'd cut out of school early. Southside High wasn't  _that_ bad really. Toni Topaz had shown him around but she'd tried to bring him into the fold of the Serpents and he wasn't sure about that. Sure he'd seen the Ghoulies eyeing him all day but he didn't want any more to do with the Serpents than completely necessary. Right now, Jughead was waiting for 3pm and also dreading it. His back was aching. He knew if he rang Betty as soon as she finished last period she'd be over at the trailer in a split second to help him. He bit his lip as he though it over - he knew he couldn't pull out of the fight tonight, it was part of his deal with the foster family. The only problem being the fact that he was already hurting. Betty could help wrap his back and ribs but then she'd try to talk him out of fighting. He was in a catch 22. 

And then the alarm on his phone went off. He picked it up and switched it off, unlocking it in the process to see Betty's number staring back at him, daring him to press 'Call'. 

"Fuck," he breathed, pressing it and holding it to his ear. 

Betty picked up on the second ring. "Juggie? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Betts, I'm fine, I just..." Jughead swallowed roughly. "Could you come over? To the trailer?"

"Yeah, I was going to pick you up at 8 right?"

"I know but...could you come over earlier?"

"Yeah of course, Jug, is everything alright?" she asked again. 

"Everything's fine, I just...I'll explain when you get here, alright?"

"Okay, I'll be there soon," she said, "I love you."

"I love you too, Betty, and...thank you," Jughead said before hanging up. 

 

* * *

 

 

Betty got to the trailer park in record time, startling Jughead slightly when she rapped on the door. Jughead let her in, pulling off his beanie and raking his fingers through his hair nervously. 

"Jug...is everything okay?" Betty asked, sensing his anxiety immediately. 

"I...the fight at the Whyte Wyrm is on tonight and I have to go," Jughead confessed. 

"Oh no, Juggie, you're not going to go are you?" Betty protested but there was already a tinge of defeat in her voice. 

"I have to, it's...part of the deal with the foster family," Jughead replied, trying to figure out how to choose his next words and failing miserably. "But the...uh, the problem is that...I, well, the reason for not wanting to, uh, live with that foster family is...I'm going to need you too"-

"Spit it out, Juggie, whatever it is, I'm sure I can help," Betty said, crossing her arms and staring him down. 

Jughead inhaled and exhaled slowly. He avoided Betty's eyes when he finally spoke. "My foster father belted me. I wanted you to have a look at my back, see if there's anything that..." Jughead trailed off when he saw Betty's shocked face. "I'm sorry Betty."

"Oh god, Juggie, no I'm sorry, I should've known, or noticed, or  _something_ ," Betty said, rushing forwards to him and enveloping him in her warm arms, being careful not to press on his back. "Let me see your back." 

"O-okay," Jughead stammered.  _He_ hadn't even seen his back - he had no idea how bad it might be. He pulled his t-shirt off and turned around. 

"Oh Juggie," Betty said softly, placing her hand on his bare shoulder. Jughead sighed in response. "It's not too bad," she reported back, finally.

"I had a jacket on, I suppose," Jughead replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But there is a bad one on your shoulder here," Betty placed her fingers on his left shoulder, pulling away in an instant at Jughead's sharp intake of breath. "Let me wrap it for you."

"Thanks Betts," Jughead said, sitting down on the couch and gesturing to the bandages he'd already pulled out from the trailer's cramped bathroom.

Betty was silent while she first cleaned then wrapped up his left shoulder. Jughead bit his lip and dug his fingernails into his palm but kept quiet as well. 

"All done," Betty said when she tied the ends of the bandage up so it hopefully wouldn't shift later on tonight. "Juggie..."

"I have to go tonight, Betty, I can't get out of it," Jughead said, shifting on the couch so he could face her. 

"Juggie,  _why_? Is it your dad?"

"No, it's the deal I made with the foster family. In exchange for them keeping quiet about me living in the trailer instead of with them, I'm fighting every month at the Wyrm for them," Jughead explained. 

"So that's the deal you made?" Betty questioned. "They're  _already_ making money by fostering you - and they're not even doing that!" 

"It's the best I could do with the time I had Betty."

"They were really that bad?"

Jughead remembered the look in his foster brother's eyes and grimaced. "Yeah, they were really that bad."

Betty took a moment, inhaled, exhaled, then stared him down again. "Well I'm going to be there. Every month. And there is no way you can talk me out of it, you hear me?"

Jughead nodded mutely, knowing this situation was about to get so much worse and having no way of stopping any of it.

* * *

 

"Jughead!"

The sound of his name sailed over the other myriad noises reverberating in his ears. Every sound, no matter how loud or soft, made him feel like he was underwater. Underwater, and yet somehow still breathing. Jughead frowned as something trickled into his eyes. He raised a hand to his eyebrow, wincing at the sting he felt when his fingers touched his face. 

"Jughead! Get up!"

The one seemed to get through to his brain finally and he took stock of his current situation - on the dusty floor of the Whyte Wyrm's basement, his face was aching and bloody, his ribs throbbed and his opponent - a big guy from the Ghoulies - gearing up to kick him again in the stomach, while he was down. He threw himself out of the way of the Ghoulie's steel-toed boot and was hauled to his feet by a couple of older Serpents. 

"You sure you don't want to tap out, little snake?" the Ghoulie spat at him. 

"Is this how you won all your other fights?" Jughead asked, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "You bored them to death with your monologues?"

"Fuck you," the Ghoulie replied, stalking towards him, telegraphing his next punch so obviously that Jughead simply had to duck it and bury his own fist into the Ghoulie's side and he was down on his hands and knees. Jughead didn't waste a second and swung at the Ghoulie's face, knocking him out cold. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" Mustang called, grabbing Jughead's arm and raising it overhead. "Jughead Jones! Pay out those bets!" 

Jughead shrugged off Mustang and pushed his way through the throng towards the downstairs bar and Betty. He gave her a small smile. 

"You scared me, Jug."

"He just stunned me for a moment there," Jughead said, trying to brush off her concerns. "Nothing to worry about." She leaned forward to hug him but he stepped back. 

"Everything alright?" she asked, frowning, her eyes scanning his body for injuries she might've missed. 

"I'll just go clean up, I don't want to ruin your sweater," Jughead said, motioning to his split lip and the cut on his brow bone. "Will you be alright here?"

"I'll be fine - I doubt anyone is gonna miss with Jughead's girl," she replied confidently, her smile widening at his expression of pride.

"You got that right Betts," he agreed. "I'll be right back."

Jughead left the bar and headed for the restroom, away from the noise and chaos of the Whyte Wyrm's basement. He frowned when he saw his reflection in the one unbroken mirror. He looked terrible. The cuts on his face had stopped bleeding but his face was covered in blood. He turned on the tap, waited for the water to look clean then splashed his face a few times, reaching out for some paper towels to dry off. Underneath the blood, bruises were already starting to come up - his right eye was darkening although it didn't look like it would swell too much, and there were new shiners on his cheekbone and jaw. He sighed and turned to drop the paper in the overflowing bin and froze. 

There was his foster brother, Lewis 'Pretty Boy' Lloyd, his eyes roaming Jughead's body. 

"Well hey there little 'brother'."

"I'm not your brother Pretty Boy," Jughead said darkly. He turned to leave but Pretty Boy moved like lightning. Suddenly he was in front of Jughead, blocking the exit. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," Pretty Boy whispered, leaning in to Jughead's neck, his hand finding Jughead's belt buckle. 

"Get off me!" Jughead pushed the taller boy away but Pretty Boy returned the favour, grabbing Jughead's shoulders, spinning him around and slamming him up against the cold tiled wall, reopening his split lip. Pretty Boy clutched both of Jughead's wrists in one meaty hand, grinding the bones, making Jughead groan softly in pain. "Get off me," he repeated softly. 

"I'm sure you'll come around if you know what's good for you," Pretty Boy whispered in his ear before moving his mouth down to Jughead's exposed throat and biting his skin, hard, making Jughead gasp. "I'll have you begging soon enough." Pretty Boy bit him again before letting him go with a smack on the arse. "See you round, lover boy."

Jughead stayed pressed up against the tile wall, his eyes closed tightly, steadying his heart rate as he heard the door to the restroom open and shut. When he finally moved away from the wall he noticed his hands were shaking. How the fuck was he going to get out of  _this_ mess? he thought to himself before gritting his teeth and heading back out to Betty. 

 

 

_{A.N. Tell me what you think! Tell me what you want! Tell me if you like it!}_


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead has a heart to heart with Betty and later with Toni. Then he's hit with a bit of a nasty surprise. 
> 
> P.S. I am SO SORRY it took this long to update. Please don't murder me. Also sorry it's a little bit exposition-y, needed to set a few things in motion...

**Chapter 4: Aftermath**

 

They hadn’t spent long in the Whyte Wyrm. Once Jughead had got himself together and walked back out to the bar and to Betty he knew it was time to go. The Ghoulies were gone - they’d left to lick their wounds after Jughead had won the fight. But standing in the corner was Pretty Boy, staring at him over the edge of his rum and coke. His dark eyes and unwavering glare was making Jughead feel like he might throw up. It was either that or he had a concussion. Betty drove him back to the trailer. Jughead staggered slightly going up the stairs and Betty wordlessly grasped his arm gently, helping him inside.

“Thanks Betts,” Jughead said softly.

“Anytime Juggie,” she replied as she helped him to the bedroom.

He grimaced slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, biting his lip to stop the cry of pain from escaping. His ribs ached with every breath, with every movement.

“Are you going to be alright?” Betty asked, worriedly, her eyes scanning his form, taking in the cuts and bruises, the way his arms were wrapped protectively around his midsection.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine Betty,” he said, giving her a half-smile. “I promise, I’ll be fine.”

“When is the next fight?” she asked.

“Not for another three weeks,” he answered. “Plenty of time to recover. I’ll be good as new by then.”

“Sure you will,” Betty scoffed but Jughead knew she was just scared for him.

“I will, Betty, it’s going to be fine, I promise,” Jughead said, reaching up to stroke Betty’s cheek tenderly. “I’m not going out of my way to get hurt. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Betty replied softy. “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

Jughead sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “God I want you to but no, go home, I’m beat, and…”

“And what?”

“I kind of feel like if you stayed, I wouldn’t get much sleep,” he looked up at her with a half smile.

“Shut up,” Betty said with a soft laugh. “Alright Juggie, I’ll go. Call me tomorrow alright?”

“Yeah, I will, I love you Betts,” Jughead said, toeing off his boots and laying down on the bed, his eyes already starting to close as exhaustion set in.

“I love you too, Juggie,”

* * *

 

It felt like it had only been five minutes that Jughead had slept when he heard knocking on the trailer door. He rolled over, grimacing at the pull on his tired, abused muscles and aching ribs. The knock sounded again and he sighed. He sat up, groaning at the pain in his midsection. He swallowed, pushing down the nausea he was feeling and staggered to the door as the knocking started up again. It was Toni Topaz.

“Hey Toni,” Jughead murmured opening the door wide for her and stumbling back into the kitchen to sit at the table.

“How’re you feeling?” Toni asked, looking him up and down.

Jughead let out a short laugh, wincing slightly. “Ah, I’m feeling like… I feel like crap Toni.”

“Go have a shower and get dressed,” Toni said and Jughead frowned at her. “I’ll buy you breakfast at Pop’s.”

Jughead groaned softly and pulled his beanie off, running fingers through his unruly dark hair. He nodded.

“Alright, Toni. Give me 10.” Jughead stood up slowly but his vision swam and he braced himself on the table for a moment. He felt Toni’s hand on his arm gently steadying him. He heard her voice but he felt like his head was surrounded by cotton wool. A couple of deep breaths later and his vision started to clear.

“...you alright? Say something, Jug,” Toni was saying.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m okay,” Jughead replied. “Just hungry I guess. Didn’t get any dinner last night.”

“You’ll be okay to… uh, have a shower yeah?” Toni asked, looking a little uncomfortable. "Cause you know... I'm into girls, right?"

“Huh. Good to know. Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, just needed a minute.”

* * *

 

Jughead sighed softly as he settled into a booth at Pop’s, one arm wrapped around his ribs. He knew he should probably get them looked at but he was too tired, too weary, too much on his plate. Just not on his literal plate, unfortunately. FP had given him a bit of cash to tide him over in the meantime, plus he made a bit of winnings off his fights. It just wasn’t enough to keep him well-fed and he was starving. His stomach grumbled loudly just as Pop set down a burger in front of him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Toni said, watching him intently as he wolfed down half the burger in record time.

“Yeah, Toni, just hungry, I promise.” “Alright…” Toni trailed off for a moment. Her gaze dropped to his bloodied knuckles.

“What is it?” Jughead asked. “It’s… it’s Pretty Boy,” Toni said, watching as Jughead studiously avoided her eyes.

“What about him?”

“He keeps asking after you. At the Wyrm,” Toni said, quietly.

“What… uh, what have the Serpents been telling him?” Jughead asked, hating the fact that his voice was only just louder than a whisper.

“They haven’t told him too much really. He’s too messed up for the Serpents I think. He knows where you live though, Jug, you’re gonna have to be careful,” Toni cautioned.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I mean, it Jug, he’s… he’s bad news. There’s something wrong with him.”

“Yeah, I know Toni, trust me,” Jughead replied, “I know.”

* * *

 

It was the next day that Jughead got the good news. He met up with Betty in the office of the Blue and Gold, having sneaked into the school through an unlocked fire escape door. Archie and Veronica joined them and sat down on the swivel chairs that had long ago needed replacing.

“What’s the news, Jug?” Archie asked.

Jughead could see his friend taking stock of the bruises that littered his face but he ignored it. “FP’s getting out of jail."

“Is that… Jug, are you gonna be alright?” Archie questioned, worry for his friend evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m… I think it’s actually gonna work this time,” Jughead replied.

“What heralded this miracle?” Veronica asked.

“Uh, overcrowding at the jail,” Jughead replied with a shrug, hiding the grimace of pain that ebbed from his ribs. “I guess the judge reviewed my dad’s case and after Cheryl’s testimony, it was… a perfect storm,” he finished, somewhat unconvincingly. “He gets out tomorrow.”

“Are you gonna be alright?” Archie said, standing up to get a closer look at his friend.

“Yeah, Arch, _God_ I wish people would stop asking me that,” Jughead said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

“If we didn’t see you covered in bruises so often…” Veronica said, her words trailing off at Jughead’s exasperated glare.

“I’m fine, really, guys, we just… I just wanted to let you know, it’s gonna be fine.”

* * *

 

It was much later that night that those words would come back to haunt Jughead. When he woke up and saw a face looming above his own.

Pretty Boy.


	5. The Caged Bird Cries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty Boy (OC) has Jughead right where he wants him. This stuff gets dark, nothing too extreme but if you're triggered by a bit of dub-con bondage, best to look away now.

**Chapter 5: The Caged Bird Cries**

 

“Evening Forsythe,” Pretty Boy murmured, grinning down at him. 

Jughead was instantly wide awake when Pretty Boy spoke. It wasn’t a dream. It was real and, if he was being honest, it was downright terrifying. 

“What the hell are you doing in my…”

Jughead’s words trailed off into nothingness when he moved to sit up in bed and found that he couldn’t. He felt rough ropes around his wrists and his breath hitched in his throat when he realised Pretty Boy had tied his hands to the headboard of his bed. He gave them an experimental tug and instantly started feeling sick to his stomach when they didn’t give an inch. An ache started to settle into his shoulders and he wondered how long he’d been tied up like this. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, looking up at Pretty Boy. “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted,  _ Jughead _ ,” he said, savouring the sound of his captive’s nickname. “You.”

“Okay do you wanna be a bit more specific?” Jughead said, buying time, trying to loosen the knots around his wrists. The rough rope was starting to chafe and burn his skin but he ignored it. He needed to get the hell out of here as fast as he could with this psychopath in the trailer. 

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Pretty Boy said, reaching out a hand towards Jughead’s face. 

Jughead flinched away, as best he could while tied to the headboard and Pretty Boy just chuckled softly. 

“Still so scared,” Pretty Boy mused, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Jughead tried to move away from him, ignoring the pull in his ribs and the ice creeping down his spine. 

“I’m not scared,” Jughead shot back before he could stop himself. 

“Oh I think you are,” Pretty Boy said. He reached out again and Jughead turned his face away from his captor as Pretty Boy ran fingers through his dark, unruly hair. He tried to imagine it was Betty or  _ anyone  _ else doing it - the illusion vanishing when Pretty Boy grabbed a fistful of dark locks and painfully wrenched his head back, exposing his neck. “I think you’re really,  _ really  _ scared right now. You’re tied up, you can’t run away, you’re at my mercy.”

“Fuck you,” Jughead growled, feeling his frustrations and anger rising to the surface, eclipsing his fear. What had he  _ fucking done _ to deserve the shit that life sent his way. He struggled again, pulling on the ropes and feeling the burn on his wrists, and pain building in his stretched muscles and bruised ribs. He stilled instantly when Pretty Boy leaned over him and grasped his forearms pressing down agonisingly. 

“Now if I were you, I’d shut that pretty mouth of yours before you say something you might regret. Or maybe, I might just shut it for you,” Pretty Boy said. 

He pulled a bandanna from where it was tied around his neck and roughly tied it around Jughead’s mouth, effectively gagging him. Jughead was forced to breathe in the heady scent of Pretty Boy’s overpowering cologne and he glared angrily at the older man who looked down at him, now bound  _ and  _ gagged with a smile. 

“I think that’s better,” Pretty Boy said, his fingers going back to run through Jughead’s fringe. “If you’re good I’ll take it off you,” he added, tugging on the bandanna making Jughead wince as it dug into the corners of his mouth, “I might want to use that mouth of yours later when you’re feeling a little more…  _ compliant _ .”

Jughead turned his head, facing away from Pretty Boy with closed eyes, trying to imagine himself anywhere  _ but  _ here. Pretty Boy grasped his chin with bruising fingers and turned his face back towards him. 

“You’ll look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.” 

Jughead was in no mood to comply and as soon as Pretty Boy’s fingers left his jaw, he turned away again. His captor’s response was swift and violent. Pretty Boy jerked his head back to the right again and then backhanded him so hard he saw stars for a moment. He blinked a couple times, trying to rid his vision of the black dots swimming in it and Pretty Boy grasped his jaw again - there’d definitely be bruises there now. 

“You know, I don’t  _ really  _ want to ruin your perfect face - anymore than it already is,” he said, his fingers lightly tapping on the black and blue skin on Jughead’s cheekbone from the fight. Jughead winced at the sensation but didn’t look away - he didn’t want to risk being hit again. 

“Maybe I could do something else to keep you in line,” Pretty Boy mused. “I heard your dear old Daddy  _ and  _ my dear old Daddy had some good luck using his belt. Maybe I could try that avenue?”

Jughead watched him warily, his mind involuntarily flooding him with memories of Pretty Boy’s father mercilessly laying into him with his belt. He shook his head slightly, trying to get the message across. 

“No? You don’t want that?” Pretty Boy asked, his eyebrows raising. Jughead shook his head, no, again and Pretty Boy. “That’s a pity. There’s something so goddamn  _ arousing  _ about watching a gorgeous boy like you get belted. I watched my Daddy lay into you back at home. God it was all I could do not to join in.”

Jughead’s blood ran cold at his words. He knew Pretty Boy was messed up and had some kind of obsession with him but he didn’t realise quite how dangerous he was. Quite how completely fucked he was, tied up in bed like this. 

“But I suppose you’re probably still feeling a little sore from that,” Pretty Boy said, his eyes roving Jughead’s bare upper body, coming to rest on the welt on his shoulder, courtesy of the whipping old man Lloyd had given him. 

Jughead nodded, trying desperately to retain some degree of self-preservation. Maybe if Pretty Boy thought he was still injured he’d go easy on him. 

“That’s alright,” Pretty Boy said with a despondent sigh, “we don’t have to that I guess. We can leave that for next time. There’s something else we could do though. I have a treat for you. A present, you could say.” 

Jughead frowned at his words. What the  _ fuck  _ had this psycho planned for him now? 

“I’ll give you a choice though. Do you want my present? Or do you want to get a belting you won’t soon forget? It’s totally up to you,” Pretty Boy said, as if his offer of a beating or some other yet-to-be named torture was a fair choice. “Do you want me to belt you?” he asked. Jughead shook his head, no. “Alright, I guess it’s time for your present then.”

He got off the bed and walked over to what Jughead assumed was his bag, sitting on the floor. Jughead couldn’t see from his bound position on the bed, could only hear rustling and what sounded like the clinking of chains - a sound that chilled him to the bone. Pretty Boy stood up and stepped back to the bed, a bunch of leather and steel links in his hands. Jughead involuntarily swallowed hard as Pretty Boy got closer. 

“You see Juggie, my uncle breeds dogs. Big ol’ nasty pitbulls that he’s gotta keep under lock and key so they don’t get out and so no one can get in,” Pretty Boy said. “Gotta keep ‘em all under control, those dogs.You know what he says is the best way to do that?”

Jughead could only shake his head, no, while keeping his terrified eyes on the bundle in Pretty Boy’s hands. 

“Best way to keep a feral dog down,” Pretty Boy murmured, looking down at Jughead, “is to collar ‘em right from the get go. Nice and tight.” 

He dropped the bundle of leather and chains on the bed and picked up something that literally made the blood in Jughead’s veins turn to ice. It was a fucking leather collar. He shook his head, pulled against the ropes, tried desperately to say ‘No’ through the gag to no avail as Pretty Boy leaned over him and buckled the leather around his throat tight enough so that he felt it constrict his neck every time he swallowed. 

“There, that looks better,” Pretty Boy said, gazing down at him hungrily. 

Jughead turned away, feeling the tell tale prickling behind his eyes and the tears rolling down his cheek. 

“Oh, are you crying, Jughead?” Pretty Boy asked. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel all better.”

Pretty Boy grasped the edge of the duvet which had thus far been lying across Jughead’s waist and started to slowly pull it down leaving him on the bed in just his sweatpants. Jughead struggled against the ropes on his wrists and screamed behind the gag. He felt something trickling down his arms and looked up to see that the ropes had finally cut into the delicate skin on his wrists and blood was running down his forearms. 

“Now, now Jughead, don’t struggle so much, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Pretty Boy admonished. “Keep going like that, and I’ll have to use this,” he added, picking up the pile of leather and chains he was yet to use on his captive. Jughead ignored his words and kept struggling, pulling on the ropes, feeling them loosen slightly as his wrists bled further. 

“I guess you give me no choice then,” Pretty Boy said angrily. 

In a flash, Pretty Boy untangled the bundle of leather and chain and if Jughead was unnerved before, now he was absolutely, downright terrified. It was a choke chain. On a leash. 

“This is what we use on the real… difficult ones,” Pretty Boy said. 

Jughead started struggling against the ropes again with a renewed frenzy. Pretty Boy had already bound him, gagged him and fucking collared him. After a few moments Jughead stopped, gasping for breath, his chest heaving, his lungs burning. It was no use. The ropes held firm. And Pretty Boy just watched him exhaust himself. Jughead tried desperately to plead behind the gag and Pretty Boy frowned. He dropped the chain and leash and untied Jughead’s gag. Jughead inhaled slowly keeping his eyes on his captor.

“P-please,” he begged. 

“Please what?”

“Please just… just let me go,  _ please _ ,” Jughead pleaded, his eyes glassy and spilling tears down his cheeks. 

“But I’m not quite done yet,” Pretty Boy said with a shrug. Then he picked up the choke chain and in seconds looped it around Jughead’s throat. 

“No, no, no,” Jughead repeated, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block everything that was happening to him, that he had no control over. 

“Open those eyes,” Pretty Boy ordered. 

Jughead ignored him, turned away, he wasn’t going to give Pretty Boy the satisfaction of seeing his tears. 

“Open your eyes,” Pretty Boy repeated. 

“No,” Jughead whispered. 

“Open them.  _ Now _ .”

All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get air into his lungs. An overwhelming pressure was bearing down on his throat and as his green eyes finally snapped open, Jughead realised he was being strangled by the choke chain. Pretty Boy’s eyes had taken on a murderous glint as he hoisted the leash up, pulling Jughead partly off the bed by his neck. Jughead choked, his vision was darkening around the edges, he felt like his limbs were made of lead. 

“Hey boy, I’m home.”

Pretty Boy whirled around at the gruff voice coming from the door of the trailer, his hand tugging on the leash, the chain tightening around Jughead’s throat.

“What the f- Sheriff! Sheriff, get in here  _ now! Keller! _ ”

Jughead faintly registered the sound of boots stomping through the doublewide and into the bedroom. Pretty Boy dropped the leash and Jughead fell back onto the mattress, his neck no longer being held aloft by the taut leather leash. The chain was still wound tight, digging into the skin on his neck and he felt rough fingers loosening it. Finally he could breathe. He gasped, gulped in huge lungfuls of air. The scene before him cleared somewhat. 

FP was leaning over him, pulling off the choke chain and unbuckling the collar, grimacing at the red marks on his son’s pale throat. Sheriff Keller and his deputy had Pretty Boy on the floor, cuffing him. FP tried to untie the knots around Jughead’s wrists but his blood had fused the fibres of the rope making FP growl in frustration. He pulled a switchblade out and sawed through them instead.

“You’re taking him straight back to juvie, right?” FP asked as Keller got Pretty Boy on his feet. 

“He’s going straight to Hiram Lodge’s goddamn new prison. He turned 18 last week,” Keller said, staring Pretty Boy down. 

FP cut the last rope and Jughead pulled his arms into his chest, groaning at the pain in his shoulders and arms. FP helped his son sit up, hands touching him only when needed, figuring that being touched was probably the last thing Jughead wanted right now.

“T-thanks,” Jughead stammered, staring down at his bloody wrists. 

“Need me to radio for an ambulance?” Keller asked, inspecting Jughead’s shaking form. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jughead replied softly. 

“You sure, boy?” FP asked. 

“I just… he didn’t do anything, just tied me up,” Jughead explained, his voice shaking as much as he was right at that moment. “I just need to… to get cleaned up.” 

“Take care of your son FP,” Keller said, nodding at Jughead’s words. 

“You know I will,” FP replied, firmly. 

The two Jones’s watched Keller and his deputy manhandle Pretty Boy out of the trailer, Keller kicking the door closed behind them. When Pretty Boy was finally out of sight, Jughead let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and dropped his head into his hands, the coppery metallic scent of his own blood flooding his senses. 

“We’re gonna need to talk about this, you know,” FP said, placing a hand on Jughead’s shoulder. Jughead flinched initially but then his breathing started to calm as FP gently rubbed his skin. 

“Yeah, I know.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Leave me a review and tell me what you'd like to see happen. I have a TON of ideas but I'm always on the lookout for some inspiration.


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